decorated rooms. It looked like a dentist’s office, but no matter. He’d buy a few things, throw some junk around; he’d done it before and achieved the desired result.
So far, so good. The clients seemed prepared to meet his terms. The little man with the big mouth had irritated him, but he was used to the type. They wanted the dirty deed done, but of course they were above doing it themselves. The intercessor was money, and that was all right with Ransom. He was prepared to take it, and he didn’t have any illusions about himself that he needed to preserve.
He sat on the linen sofa and set the folders he’d been given on the glass coffee table, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit up and began to read, going from one stack of papers to another as he smoked steadily, filling the marble ashtray with butts. Finally, after two hours, he sat back and folded his arms behind his head, staring at the hexagonal light fixture in the ceiling.
His target had to be the Senator’s assistant, Margaret Drummond. The daughter might have been a possibility, but she was too obvious, too well protected, and she had a boyfriend. The Drummond woman would do. She was single and the right age, and she lived alone.
He sat up and flipped through the material he had until he came to the specifics on Drummond, thirty-one, born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and known as “Meg.” She’d been with the Senator nine years, since her graduation from Penn State, moving up rapidly from campaign worker to her present position at his right hand. She was tight with the daughter and apparently was trusted implicitly by the Senator and his staff. She handled the Senator’s correspondence and appointments, which was ideal for Ransom’s purposes. Best of all, she was a dedicated career woman and not dating anyone steadily. That would make his entry into her life so much smoother.
He studied the facsimile picture of Drummond at the top of the bio sheet. Dark hair, dark eyes, even features. Not bad. Of course, that was immaterial; it was his job to pursue her if she looked like the Medusa. But the fact that she was attractive would make it easier for her to believe he was interested.
Ransom had no doubt that he would be able to use her. He was notoriously successful with women. He was handsome enough, in a quiet, undemonstrative way, but more than that, he was elusive. Women sensed a reserve beneath his quicksilver nature, a reserve that presented an irresistible challenge.
They had no idea how great the challenge really was.
He began to whistle as he went to the bathroom to shower.
Chapter 3
IN THE MORNING, Ashley was the first person seated in the conference room supplied by the hotel. She had her folder of notes in front of her and was sipping coffee when the door opened and the Senator and Meg came in, followed by Damico and several other advisers. Bringing up the rear was Scott Baker, the Senator’s chief of staff.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Fair said to Ashley. “Sleep well?”
“Fine,” Ashley replied, not completely truthfully.
Meg slipped into the chair next to her and whipped out a pocket tape recorder.
“Miss Drummond is recording us again,” Fair said dryly. “I would advise you to use extreme discretion in your statements.”
Meg grinned, and the others smiled tolerantly. Her compulsive tracking of their every word was a standing joke, but it contributed to her legendary competence, so no one really minded.
“I guess I’ll begin,” Baker said as he sat across from Ashley. “I have the results of the latest Gallup and Harris polls. We’ll go over the numbers and then I’ll throw the floor open to discussion.”
Baker read off his information, and his listeners contributed their ideas about how to improve Fair’s standing in the areas where his following was limited.
“I think we have to schedule a tour of the Midwestern states for the late summer,” Ashley said firmly. “We
So far, so good. The clients seemed prepared to meet his terms. The little man with the big mouth had irritated him, but he was used to the type. They wanted the dirty deed done, but of course they were above doing it themselves. The intercessor was money, and that was all right with Ransom. He was prepared to take it, and he didn’t have any illusions about himself that he needed to preserve.
He sat on the linen sofa and set the folders he’d been given on the glass coffee table, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit up and began to read, going from one stack of papers to another as he smoked steadily, filling the marble ashtray with butts. Finally, after two hours, he sat back and folded his arms behind his head, staring at the hexagonal light fixture in the ceiling.
His target had to be the Senator’s assistant, Margaret Drummond. The daughter might have been a possibility, but she was too obvious, too well protected, and she had a boyfriend. The Drummond woman would do. She was single and the right age, and she lived alone.
He sat up and flipped through the material he had until he came to the specifics on Drummond, thirty-one, born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and known as “Meg.” She’d been with the Senator nine years, since her graduation from Penn State, moving up rapidly from campaign worker to her present position at his right hand. She was tight with the daughter and apparently was trusted implicitly by the Senator and his staff. She handled the Senator’s correspondence and appointments, which was ideal for Ransom’s purposes. Best of all, she was a dedicated career woman and not dating anyone steadily. That would make his entry into her life so much smoother.
He studied the facsimile picture of Drummond at the top of the bio sheet. Dark hair, dark eyes, even features. Not bad. Of course, that was immaterial; it was his job to pursue her if she looked like the Medusa. But the fact that she was attractive would make it easier for her to believe he was interested.
Ransom had no doubt that he would be able to use her. He was notoriously successful with women. He was handsome enough, in a quiet, undemonstrative way, but more than that, he was elusive. Women sensed a reserve beneath his quicksilver nature, a reserve that presented an irresistible challenge.
They had no idea how great the challenge really was.
He began to whistle as he went to the bathroom to shower.
Chapter 3
IN THE MORNING, Ashley was the first person seated in the conference room supplied by the hotel. She had her folder of notes in front of her and was sipping coffee when the door opened and the Senator and Meg came in, followed by Damico and several other advisers. Bringing up the rear was Scott Baker, the Senator’s chief of staff.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Fair said to Ashley. “Sleep well?”
“Fine,” Ashley replied, not completely truthfully.
Meg slipped into the chair next to her and whipped out a pocket tape recorder.
“Miss Drummond is recording us again,” Fair said dryly. “I would advise you to use extreme discretion in your statements.”
Meg grinned, and the others smiled tolerantly. Her compulsive tracking of their every word was a standing joke, but it contributed to her legendary competence, so no one really minded.
“I guess I’ll begin,” Baker said as he sat across from Ashley. “I have the results of the latest Gallup and Harris polls. We’ll go over the numbers and then I’ll throw the floor open to discussion.”
Baker read off his information, and his listeners contributed their ideas about how to improve Fair’s standing in the areas where his following was limited.
“I think we have to schedule a tour of the Midwestern states for the late summer,” Ashley said firmly. “We
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